Her Details
by Tigerlily96
Summary: Bobby finds that maybe he doesn't know quite what he thought he did, Pure BA
1. Chapter 1

**A/N First of all, I hadn't intended it on being this long, but it is the prologue and chapter one. Um, I'm not sure how often I can update. My muse is kind of like the fur on a dog with mange--- Sparse and only found in small patches here and there... ; ) Also, thanks to all who reviewed my story Open Book. It is very appreciated! Well, that's about it. --Sarah**

**I don't own any part of Law and Order:CI. It's all Mr. Wolf's so please don't sue!**

Prologue

There are things I always thought I knew. I'm a criminal profiler, it's my job. I look for the tiny details in everything. The details, which most people tend to overlook, are the key behind everything.

Everyone's story has all kinds of little details, like they're trying to give you clues about who they are without having to tell you directly. And if you are smart enough to look for these clues, then they'll know you listened, I mean really listened, and cared enough to figure them out.

That's what people wait their entire lives for; someone to figure out their details. And that's what I do, I figure out people's details.

Now, as much as I had prided myself on my ability to search out and find people's clues, there had been one person's details I had seriously, though inadvertantly, overlooked.

My partner, Alexandra Eames, is one of those people with many details, and most of them tucked away so you really have to search to find them. They are so hidden in the catacombs of herself, yet so worth the search to find them.

This is where my record of detail sleuthing becomes severely tarnished. For four years, I had the ignorance of thinking that I knew her details, all of them. Oh sure, I knew little things, like how she took her coffee and her secret satisfaction in coming off as a petite, vulnerable woman, when she is so much more intimidating than someone expects.

I knew big things too. What happened to her husband, still not so long ago in her mind and that ever present feeling of emptiness in her where her nephew once was. Yes, I knew details, more details than I could count. I just didn't see the one's that mattered most. And in missing these details, I had unknowingly missed details in yet another person --- Myself.

All of this is how I've found myself here, standing in the rain outside this enormous Catholic church, with it's entrance all made up in pretty ribbons and flowers. The sky is completely overcast, matching my current dispostion, as my eyes linger on the building before me.

You see, I'm supposed to in there. Well, actually I was supposed to be in there five minutes ago, presumably in a tux, with a bow tie and all that jazz.

Now, I wasn't supposed to be _by_ the bride's side, but on her side. You know, sitting awkwardly in the pews surrounded by her family and friends, watching as she made her grand entrance.

But instead, I'm standing out here on the sidewalk, still in the clothes I had on last night, letting the rain fall on unhindered upon me.

The truth is, I don't want to go in there --- I can't. You see, it's my partner in there about to get married. I never even saw it coming. Can you believe that? A detective on the Major Case Squad and I never even suspected it.

What makes this so much harder to deal with is that now, when it's far too late, I can pinpoint the exact day when I should have realized my lack of attention.

The exact day when all of her details I had missed would come back to haunt me.

Chapter One

**The Exact Day**

Something was wrong. Well, maybe not wrong, just --- Different. Yes, things were just different enough to make me find myself standing in a hallway of an apartment building which is most definately not mine.

Actually, it's my partner's.

I feel a little weird about being here, outside her door. Not that I've never been here before. No, I've been here many times to have coffee or discuss a case. But I've never been here just to check in. I can't say I've ever done that before.

You see, she was different today. Not in the overly obvious kind of way, but more of a subtle change in mannerisms kind of way. I don't thinks anyone else seemed to notice, but I spotted it right away.

Today had been slow. We didn't have a case to go out on, just a mountain of paperwork piled on the corner of our joined desks. Now, I'm not one to talk about staying concentrated on one thing at a time. My mind tends to make more skips and jumps than two children playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. But Eames, she's the pennacle of concentration.

It doesn't matter how many monotonous pages she filps through on a daily basis. Unlike me, she just trudges on through nonstop, until she's found the bottom of the mound.

This is what makes today so odd. There was no trudging, only the continuous, and almost rhythmatic, sighs that lasted from early morning to the very end of the day. This then being coupled with the steady tap of her pen.

I don't even think she noticed when I had looked up to study her preoccupied face from time to time. It was almost as if she was a million miles away as her eyes shifted back and forth from the clock on the wall.

As the day wound down, there was still a partial stack of papers beside her, only half of what she normally did. And the final sign that had sealed my curiosity was when, at exactly five o' clock, she set down her pen, grabbed her coat and threw a quick goodbye in my direction.

She never just leaves at five, especially if there's still work to be done. And even after that she usually waits around to see if I'd like to grab a bite to eat or maybe a drink.

Yes, something was definately different and I needed to find out what it was.

My knock was tentative. I still had no idea of what I was going to say. After a moment of scrambling from inside, I hear her shout to come in. This yet again makes me stop and wonder. Alex never just lets anyone in, and it's not like she knew I was coming. Hell, normally there's about six locks that have to be undone and that's only after a thorough inspection through the peephole. This is New York, afterall.

Still, I enter cautiously and close the door behind me. She's nowhere in sight, so I step further inside.

Her apartment is almost the complete opposite of mine. If I had to describe it with a single word, it would be cozy. There's no real decor style, just kind of a mixture of many things.

There's a huge persian style rug covering the living room floor. Her living room set is like one of those modern leather deals and small antique tables are dotted here and there, 1920's era I believe. Knicknacks line the shelves, baseball pennants hang on the walls, and old books and newspapers are scattered here and there.

It always just has a homey feel to it.

Wandering over to one of the shelves, I grab a bottle of fishfood off the top before heading to the couch. You see, Alex doesn't have a dog or even a cat, she says they're too much of a hassle. No, instead she has Kirk and Herman, two bright orange goldfish strategically placed in a round bowl in the center of her coffee table.

As I'm shaking a few flakes into the bowl, I hear her voice call from the bathroom.

"I'll be out in a minute."

This poses a problem as I still have no idea what to say. All I can do is sit here on her fine leather sofa, twiddling my thumbs waiting for her to come out.

It's almost as if on cue that I hear the door swing open and a lightswitch turned off behind me. I don't bother to turn around because I can hear her coming.

"You're earlier than I had exp ---" There's a momentary pause before she venture's, "Bobby?"

Now, I could be wrong, but it sounded as though not only was I earlier than she had expected, but also not _who _she had expected.

"Yeah," I begin slowly as I rise off the couch. I'm searching for anything but coming up blank as I rub the side of my face awkwardly. This was most definately a bad idea.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice is curious, not impatient when I turn to face her.

''Well, I just ---" But I stop midsentence. Remember when I said earlier that she was different?

She still is.

I have seen Alex many ways. Street smart cop, playing a hokey bank teller or a lonely woman new to New York. All of these were part of her job. Nothing had prepared me for this.

A soft, flowered, silk skirt flowed down before ending in sumptuous ruffles just above her knees and a light green sweater hugged her closely, the top wrapping around her shoulders leaving her collar bone exposed. She wore just a little more makeup than usual, though not overplayed, just soft enough to bring out her eyes. Even her normally loose hair was pulled up into an elegant twist.

"You're going out," I stated after a moment, realizing I had been staring for far too long.

At this, she looked down to herself suddenly and smiled in amusement. "Actually, I am."

I felt like a complete jackass. It's just that I had never seen her so --- Femanine.

Well, not that I hadn't realized she was a woman before this, you'd have to be completely blind not to notice. I'm just used to her "I'm A Tough, Yet Professional Female Police Officer" look. Not this.

Things take yet another awkward turn as silence fill the room. I can't stop myself from shoving my hands in my pockets helplessly. Then, beyond my control, my eyes sweep across her once more. "So, you're going out." I realize I have said this already, but I'm still clueless as what to do.

Alex gives me a funny look before stepping around the couch. "Yeah." As she reaches down for a set of shoes, she laughs slightly. "Actually, I'm a little nervous about it all. I haven't been on a date in a long time."

This catches me by surprise. Not the fact that she was nervous, but the fact hat I hadn't even thought about her dating all all. I hadn't thought past her life outside of work and the occasional drinks we had.

After slipping on her shoes, she looked up to me witha small sigh of satisfaction. "Well, how do I look?"

I was a little speechless for a second before I gave a small smile. "You look great." She looked amazing.

She did her best, but it didn't stop the tiny bit of blush that crept up her cheeks for a mere moment. Then, as quickly as it had passed, another look came over her face. "Did you need something, Bobby?"

No, not now. Without even asking I had figured out why she had seemed so different today. Before I could flounder uselessly yet again, three short raps came from the door. I looked over in time to see Alex pat her hair carefully and smooth down her skirt before hurrying to open the door.

I once again had the feeling of being a jackass as I stood unnoticed by the man who stepped through the door to give Alex a gentle hug.

He was a little shorter than I was, with blond hair kept short and glasses. He wore a well tailored sports coat over jeans. A doctor or lawyer type if I estimated correctly.

It wasn't long before his blue eyes looked past her and sized me up slowly. Alex must have noticed the sudden tension because she quickly led him over to me.

"Jackson, this my partner I told you about. Robert Goren." Smiling up to me, she then pointed back to him. "Bobby, this is Jackson McCullogh. He's a partner of Tabor law firm downtown."

Bingo. He looked like a lawyer.

Giving his hand a quick, but firm shake, I nodded customarily. I didn't knowwhy, but for some reason I had an odd feeling about him.

I couldn't ponder it long though because he looked down to his watch, then to Alex. "We had better get going, the dinner reservations are in twenty minutes."

"Oh, okay." Alex looked around for a moment before grabbing her purse and looking back to me. "Bobby, could you ---"

I cut her off witha friendly wave of my hand. "I'll lock up for you."

She gave a grateful smile before taking Jackson's offered arm.

"It was nice meeting you, Robert," he said as they turned for the door.

Nodding in return, I watched the door close behind them. As I looked around the room for a moment, I couldn't help the odd feeling that lingered in my mind.

I take back what I said earlier about things being different.

Something was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Thanks for all the reviews! You all are so very nice! -- Sarah**

Chapter Two

**The Day After**

I'll admit it. I was being a little intrusive, but she was late. Eight minutes late to be exact. It took me about two of those minutes to Google his name. Don't worry, I was smart enough to use someone else's computer. Who knows how many times Eames uses the history button on ours.

Anyhow, I had to at least check the guy out. It was my partner he had taken out last night. Besides, in my line of work, you tend to learn that you can never be too careful.

No Priors. I can tell you that. No so much as a parking ticket. Jackson McCullogh had come from a modest family in a small Missouri town, then worked his way through a prestigious, private college, til he, with the right connections, found himself in one of New Yorks finest law firms. He was a stand up citizen if there ever was one. He did tons of probono, heck, he even worked in soup kitchens on Christmas eve. Yes, there was no doubt he was perfect for Eames.

Perfectly bland.

He just didn't seem to fit. Not with her. But then, I hadn't even suspected that she had wanted to date. It made me wonder what else I hadn't noticed.

I can't help myself as my eyes drift over to her side of the desk. Methodically, I began searching out various items of hers. There was the Santa mug in the middle, jammed with pens, paper clips and whatnot. Then the framed pictures of her family that smiled up to where she sat. There was always something to show that the desk was hers, unlike my side, which was completely devoid of any personal effects. My gaze then passed over the standard items. Our stapler, a small magnifying glass, and the tape dispenser by the phone.

And that's when I saw it. Though it was small, its gold color blared in contrast against the black desktop. No bigger than a Monopoly piece, was the tiniest statue of a bird with its wings outstretched sitting next to the phone.

It was the first time I had ever noticed it.

I didn't get to study it long though, because Alex came breezing around the desk a moment later. My surprise must have showed because she then smiled apologetically.

"Traffic was backed up."

I could only nod my head. It was apparent she was in a good mood despite the fact. Her lips held the faintest hint of a smile and she just seemed lighter somehow. The feeling of it kind of resonated around her and I felt a twinge of something unknown.

She must of caught me studying her because she stopped in the middle of pulling off her coat to stare at me suspiciously. "What?"

"Nothing." Something. Instead of looking at her, I gaze down to my hands. "So, I guess your date went well last night." I was seriously testing the waters here.

I looked up in time to see her bite her bottom lip, that faint smile from earlier threatening to spill over. So much so, she too had to look down to her hands for a moment.

"It went okay," she answered finally.

It was more than okay judging by the look on her face. I've seen my partner fake blushing before, but nothing compares to the real thing. This was all really odd. Before I knew it though, she plopped down in her seat unceremoniously, her manner no longer flustered.

"So, what's on today's agenda?" Then, on a quiet side note she added, "God, I hope it's not more paperwork."

That's right, we had work to do. Shaking my head at my straying mind, I then proceeded to shove the case file Deakins had handed me earlier over to her.

"Jeffrey Keady, 39. His wife found him in their living room twenty minutes ago." Seeing her odd look, I grinned knowingly. "He's the son of one of Carver's golf buddies. Anyways, they're waiting for us on the scene."

She didn't need to hear any more as she stood and replaced her coat and started for the door. "I never thought I'd be so happy for a murder," she threw over her shoulder as she passed another detective with a stack of papers piled up hopelessly on his desk.

I couldn't help but smile as I followed her out. Now that was the Eames I knew.

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You'd think that with a dead man with a bludgeoned head laying out before you, you'd be pretty focused on the task at hand. Not me though. Well, not that I was completely useless at the moment. I mean, we'd already figured out what had been used to kill him. It was a hammer, a ballpien hammer to be exact. Found it in the dumpster. And it wasn't like I was looking out the window trying to figure out what animal shapes I thought the clouds looked like. You wouldn't even be able to see clouds from the apartment, anyways.

No, I just wasn't quite as focused as I normally am. Sure, I went through all the motions, asked all the questions I thought pressing to Carly (The wife of the dead man), and throroughly examined the body. Hell, we even have a suspect in mind already. It seems Mr. Keady was seen in a scuffle with one of his business associates just two days ago. But through all of this, my mind kept involuntarily going back to one thing ---

That damn bird on Eames' desk.

Don't ask me why. I still haven't figured it out. My mind would be taking in all these details about the case and then, in between each clue, it would somehow reverse back to that little gold statue by the phone.

Jeffrey was wealthy, but not overly so ---

I wonder how long that bird has been sitting there? ---

Mrs. Keady seems genuinly distressed over her husband's slaying. ---

It looks antigue. I'm pretty sure it's pure gold. ---

The business associate's name is Brian Clemmings, works in accounting. ---

Maybe I should ask Eames where it came from. ---

On and on, it would continue back and forth like this. It even got to a point where I had to stop for a moment during the search of the house and rub my temples wearily. But, even through all of this, we did eventually get through the search, though I don't think it was really up to our usual standards.

Now, as I'm sitting here on the passenger side of the SUV, it's unusually quiet. I mean, normally it's quiet because I'm thinking about a case, but right now, it's because I'm still thinking about the significance of that little bird.

Finally, I turn to look at Eames. I couldn't take any more of these plaguing thoughts. Before I could say anything though, her voice cuts through my decisiveness.

"Did you think there was anything...odd about her? Carly, I mean." She's doesn't turn to me as she asks it, just continues to stare thoughtfully on the road ahead.

"I'm not sure," I answer honestly. Her question kind of surprised me and I can tell she is really thinking about it. "Why?"

She sighs a little before shaking her head. "I don't know. Something just feels off with her. It's probably nothing."

Never doubt a woman's intuition, that I have learned, and this makes me wonder about Mrs. Keady myself. I'm about to say so, but Eames has become quiet once more, so I move on with a question of my own.

"How long has that bird been on your desk?" The question is out of the blue, but I had to know.

Her face scrunches up in confusion for a moment, before she glances over to me. "That little gold one?" After I nodded my head, she turned back to the road clearly perplexed. "I guess about three months."

Three months. For three months it has been sitting right in front of me and I hadn't even noticed it.

"My mom found it the last time I went to visit," she continued on without warning. "It belonged to my grandmother. I remember it used to sit on the corner of her mantel, kind of hidden behind some of her pictures, but I always managed to find it."

I watched her lips curl up in a smile at the memory before she went on.

"She used to call me her little bird. She always said I used to flit around here and there, never stopping. Anyways, my mom found it in some old boxes and thought I would want it."

She had never told me that before. I wonder why. Oh well, maybe now I could finally get some work done.

"It's kinda funny you ask because I was just telling Jackson about that last night."

Or not.

I'm getting that odd twinge of a feeling again, but I don't know what it is. It almost feels like there's a large stone resting in the pit of my stomach, but why would I feel like that?

Eames must be oblivious to my tangled thoughts because she's once again looking back to the road, that small smile on her face again. I like it when she smiles like that, it's nice on her. But then again, I don't like it either. None of this makes any sense, does it?

Then, I couldn't help but think of what else she had told Jackson on their date last night. Other little things about her life that I didn't know. Which sounds really bad since I've known her for four years and work with her every day and he's only known her a week, probably.

I think the stone's getting larger by the moment.

Gazing back over to her, I pause before asking one last question. "So, you're going to see him again?"

Not looking at me, she just continued to smile. "Friday night."

I think the stone just smothered me into oblivion.


End file.
